


infinity x infinity

by miamihorror



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:32:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miamihorror/pseuds/miamihorror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're too good for this world, Iwa-chan," Oikawa murmurs wistfully. "You're too good to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	infinity x infinity

**Author's Note:**

> this was my hqss submission + first try at some iwaoi! i literally spent two months burning over them (and with Good Reason) and this is the result of that. (ps listen to Onerepublic's Something I Need for heightened reading experience) enjoy!

The sound of the whistle is a gunshot through bulletproof glass in the heavy air of the gymnasium, and Oikawa swivels his head towards the scoreboard, lungs already floating in tar at the sight of the numbers under the team's name. It's odd against even - one block, one spike, one number away from victory.

The roar of the crowd is distant in his ears; instead his breath becomes disjointed with each inhale, the adrenaline still alive in his veins and crashing down like waves against the shore. He swallows the familiar taste of dread on his tongue and forces his aching muscles to move, but the world blurs before him when he bows his head, gravity pulling lumps of salt from his eyes.

A warm hand reverts him back to reality when it lands on the small of his back, fingers spread out like a safety net, and he looks up to his left to meet glassy eyes, once silver and steel against the force of his own gaze. The figure gestures at their fatigued teammates with a nudge of his head, and Oikawa nods once before pacing himself beside the team's ace. They take their places as number one and four before bowing and exchanging thanks in shouts and handshakes, the smile plastered on his face straining his cheeks when he presses his palm against the victor's own.

It's cold.

"I don't want to hear it," he hears Iwaizumi say when they file out of the gymnasium and into the change rooms, turning back to find the ace at the entrance with fists against his sides, white knuckles and taped fingers shaking. Oikawa watches the other teen's lip curl in distaste at the laugh he spares him after he changes out of his uniform, glancing down at the number stitched on the front of his jersey.

Number one. But at what cost, exactly?

"I don't know what-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, dumbass," Iwaizumi cuts him off, his tone sharper than the pain that he perseveres through from hours and hours of practice. "You of all people know better than anyone else."

Iwaizumi was never one to beat around the bush, and Oikawa can only dig through the thorns to produce the blossom from his work.

"I know," Oikawa murmurs. "I know that, Iwa-chan."

+

He tosses another ball into the air and hits it with the force of a hurricane, the thud of it against the walls lightning in the late hours of the evening. Sweat drips from his chin as he watches it roll towards the other balls, chest heaving for oxygen, and there's a satisfying ache in his calves when he walks over to the cart to fetch another for one more jump serve.

The doors slide open when his shoes touch the ground and reveals exasperation in the form of Iwaizumi Hajime, his eyebrows already furrowed into a knot and arms tightly folded across his chest.

"What do you think you're doing," he grits through clenched teeth, obviously miffed by Oikawa's presence in the gymnasium during unmentionable hours of the night, if the criss-cross of veins on the vice-captain's forehead was anything to go by. "Everyone else already went home, idiot. It's about time you did too."

A bubble of laughter lodges in his throat, the corner of his lips tugging up at his friend's words. "I didn't know you could be so funny, Iwa-chan," Oikawa teases, water meeting sweat on the back of his hand as he wipes his upper lip. "Isn't that a little bit hypocritical since you're still here too?"

"I'm only here because you're still here, stupid," Iwaizumi bites, and Oikawa's grip tightens on the water bottle like a mouse trapped in the body of a snake. "So hurry up and go home."

"Just a few more minutes-"

"Go home," Iwaizumi repeats. "You've done enough already."

He stills at the sudden drop Iwaizumi's voice takes, the calm before the storm that Oikawa cannot take shelter from, the kind he knows will soak him to the bone and leave chills in the crevices and empty spaces between his joints. Suddenly he feels like he's eight again, the rain pitter-pattering against the window as thunder shook the frame, hands over his ears and head pressed against his mother's chest as she holds him close.

But laced in Iwaizumi's eyes was not the strike of lightning; instead Oikawa sees the parting of clouds after the rain, beams of sunlight warm and comforting and prickling on his skin like the first few drops of honey in tea.

"Fine," Oikawa pouts, bumping shoulders with his vice-captain playfully when he passes him, picking up stray volleyballs off the gym floor. "But now you owe me one, Iwa-chan."

"I don't owe you anything," Iwaizumi retorts, and there's almost a fondness surrounding his tone if it weren't for the volleyball aimed in his direction with complete accuracy. "If it's anything, _you_ owe _me_."

Oikawa lays in bed that night with his palms wrapped in athletic tape and the touch of Iwaizumi's hand clasping his shoulder lingering as he greets him good night, and he knows that he owes Iwaizumi a lot more than what he thinks.

+

"Iwa-chan."

He hears a low hum in return.

"I'm nervous."

The words hang between them like icicles in a cave, threatening to crack and fall with just one sudden movement, and Oikawa watches the expression on his best friend settle between his eyebrows as they sit outside the gymnasium before their final high school match. Finngers tighten over one another and flesh turns pink when Iwaizumi chews on his lip, the buzzing in Oikawa's ears turning into static.

"It's fine," Iwaizumi replies, but his voice is hushed and Oikawa knows he's nervous too. "That's normal."

"Is it really?" Oikawa whispers, the voices from a cheer rise from behind them in the gymnasium, loud enough to drown out his words, and his mind turns into mush when he feels cold fingers lodging between his own, curling into the space in between each one and setting fire to the skin beneath the tips of Iwaizumi's fingers.

There's no hesitation in the way Oikawa turns his palm upwards to press against Iwaizumi's, the thumb grazing across his knuckles both familiar and comforting like the afternoon sun from the windows dancing down onto their crisp mint and white uniforms. Silence sits between them and the three minutes remaining between the ongoing match and their own, Oikawa soaking in the presence of the anchor beside him in a sea of madness that is his own mind.

"You're too good for this world, Iwa-chan," Oikawa murmurs wistfully. "You're too good to me."

"Shut up," Iwaizumi responds, his hand squeezing Oikawa's gently, and Oikawa looks down at their clasped hands to find a lock and a key; the curves of their palms made only for each other and one another.

Sound is muffled in his ears like someone had stuffed them with cotton when Iwaizumi moves to stand in front of him and leans to press his forehead against his own, eyebrows down turned as if he was telling his own body to stay in place.

"We'll win this," Iwaizumi breathes, and Oikawa wants to so badly believe in the three words sighed onto his lips. "We'll all win this. So let's go and do just that."

When they enter the gymnasium side by side, the artificial lighting in their eyes and years worth of sweat and tears ultimately leading them to this final stage, the king stands proud before his people and his noble knight stays strong and steadfast beside him, and together, for the first and last time, they fight.


End file.
